The Nephew
by ImJustSomeRandomWriter
Summary: Liam Ford has always been a lone wolf, especially since his parents were devoured by walkers. He was once a citizen of Woodbury, but that changed when they all left. Now, Liam only has one thing to complete; his dying father's wish: find Uncle Abe. Can he survive long enough to find his uncle? (This is a parental story and not a slash! No romance between OC and Abraham!)
1. Chapter 1: Liam Ford

_Death..._

 _There is so much death..._

 _Bullets-or something-keeps flying past me..._

 _Screaming..._

 _Please...stop..._

 _People don't need to die...not like that old guy..._

 _No, stop!_

 _Stop it!_

 _NO!_

 _STOP!_

* * *

The morning sun touched the top of Woodbury. The bright blue sky was optimistic and provided merit to the somewhat grim mood of the people; it was a consensus, practically. Birds chirped empathetically as the citizens of Woodbury woke under the sun and puffy clouds. Trees and leaves waved their "good mornings" with the assistance of the zephyr that blew through the Georgia community.

In one apartment, one boy awoke groggily. He was shitless, showing his abs and his toned body. He groaned slightly as he rolled in his empty queen-sized bed. He enjoyed sleeping-it was one activity he _could_ enjoy- but waking disturbed the merit that sleep brought. The young boy sat up and yawned loudly. He rubbed his face and swung his legs over the mattress. His feet touched the cold floor. Frightened by the cold, he yelped slightly and pulled his feet away from the cold. He gently placed his feet on the floor again, then the cold seemed somewhat welcoming.

The leg muscles within him groaned with agitation-they didn't want to begin their long day of working; neither did the brain that controlled their movements. The boy looked around his bedroom. His shirt and jeans were tossed on the floor from his exhausting night of playing poker. He smiled-that was fun as hell. He moved across his bedroom and grabbed his jeans and his white t-shirt. He groggily placed the cloths on his body. He ran a hand through his fiery red hair. He walked into the bathroom.

He stopped in the bathroom, looking at the mirror that was suspended over the sink. His blue eyes stared at the person that was reflected in the mirror. He was once taught that the mirror showed the true personality of the gazer; the greedy, hideous side of the gazer. He frowned- he looked too much like his father and his father's brother. He turned on the water to the sink. The cold water fell into the porcelain bowl. The boy dipped his hands into the cold water and splashed water on his face. Some landed on his t-shirt, but he didn't mind. He looked back at the mirror, seeing the red hair and the young face.

His blue eyes looked into the mirror, seeing death and destruction. He looked away and walked out of the bathroom. He walked back into his bedroom. The hipster look of the room somewhat made him comforted; it reminded him of an American Eagle outlet. The tan walls were bordered with a dark wooden frame. Next to his bed was a nightstand, where he kept a glass of water, a book, and a heavy hunting knife. He was protected in this community, but he didn't take chances.

The boy sauntered across his room, making a journey to the closet. The doors were heavy to open, but the boy swung them open. Inside, the hangers were suspending several flannel shirts and two sweatshirts. He grabbed a black and white flannel and threw it over his shoulders. The soft fabric comforted him. He sauntered towards the door, which was in the other room.

He walked into the other room, which consisted of the main living area and the mini kitchen. He saw his olive coat draped over the couch. He grabbed the coat and emitted a languid sigh; he liked his life in Woodbury. He put the coat on, and pulled the gray hood onto his red hair, pulling the hood slightly past his ears. He nodded and sat on the couch, putting on his favorite hiking boots. The young fiery ginger tied the laces tightly, not wanting to succumb to walkers by tripping upon his untied shoelaces.

The ginger stood tall, then arched his back sharply. His spine cracked. More despondent feelings entered his mind; he remembered the silent Sunday mornings when the young boy awoke to the smell of frying bacon. His father savored the taste of bacon, albeit his wife loathing bacon and most meats in general. The young boy, too, loved bacon and greasy foods, like his father.

He frowned. He missed bacon and greasy foods, like French fries and chicken wings.

His frown grew. He missed his father and mother-too bad they were dead.

He could still remember the despondent day of death that ensued; it was also ironic, because that day was his birthday, and the world had gifted him with the loss of his parents-well the walkers gifted him with the loss of his parents. He could still hear the gnawing teeth on bone, the tearing of flesh; these morbid images and sounds were all too familiar.

The boy closed his eyes, remembering the horrific day...

* * *

"Liam! Open that fucking truck-now!" shouted his father.

Liam was panicking. His eyes darted from side-to-side, looking for an answer. He saw Boyd, a retired policeman, fall under a pile of walkers. The walkers tore at his chubby flesh, biting into his skin. Liam looked towards his right, seeing an old lady clutching her neck. She was crying silently, moving her lips quickly. She was wearing a white blouse with jeans. Liam looked back towards his father.

His father was holding a .22 caliber rifle, and shot it into the crowd of walkers. Liam's father was easily identifiable; his fiery red hair was distinguishable. The red hair was a common trait for all the males in Liam's family. His father was wearing his favorite leather jacket and dark jeans, along with hiking boots. His blue eyes gazed upon the walkers.

Liam simply couldn't do anything-he was paralyzed with fear and anticipation. He was scared.

"Liam, move your ass!" shouted his father, again. "Get Ruth to that truck, now!"

Those words cut through the traumatizing stupor of fear that had thwarted his common sense. He looked back at Ruth, then trotted towards her. Walkers brushed past him, moaning and groaning from hunger. Liam looked down at his cloths, seeing blood and intestines cover his chest and arms. He shrugged and continued towards the old woman.

Ruth was rocking on the road, muttering about something inaudible. Liam sauntered towards her and knelt beside her. One of her hands were pressed against her neck while the other was clutching a cross. Liam never understood why people clung to religion-God was dead. God died the moment that the first walker bit into it's first victim.

Ruth continued to rock, reciting verses from the Bible. Liam simply watched her as gunshots echoed in the air. Ruth looked at the sky. "I beg for forgiveness, my Lord! I sinned, and sinned, and sinned! I wish to confess to my sins! Punish me with the most horrific punishment fathomable due to my sins! Strike me with Your power! _Forgive my sins!"_

God delivered His forgiveness when a walker bit into her neck.

Liam gasped. Blood flew in high velocities as another walker approached and began to devour upon Ruth. Tears clouded his vision as he rose to his feet. He wanted to scream. He wanted to lay on the ground and cry. He wanted to _die._ Ironically, that feat wouldn't be hard to accomplish; the walkers swarmed around him, simply groaning and feasting upon the deceased. Liam flinched when a gunshot filled the air.

 _I need to find somewhere to hide..._

" _Liam!"_ cried out his father. Liam flinched at his words as he looked back. Hot tears immediately filled his eyes as he saw the horrific scene through the heads of the walkers; two walkers were devouring into his father's neck and arm. Liam wanted to scream, but that would get him killed, too. There was nothing he could do-he was useless.

"Son, I love you!" screamed his father as blood sprayed from his neck. "Find Uncle Abe! Find him, son, he w-" he never finished his sentence because the walkers finally killed him. Liam turned his head and began to walk through the horde, leaving the corpse of his father behind. He felt tears rolling down his grimy cheeks as he glanced back. He couldn't see the morbid scene of gore, but, he wished he was the person that was being devoured, not his father. Liam turned away and continued to walk without a purpose.

* * *

Liam shook his head, knocking himself from his horrific thoughts. He was standing outside of his apartment, leaning against the door. The morning sun hung overhead. Liam wiped some freefalling tears away from his cheeks as he tried to forget the macabre scene. Liam watched apathetically as people crowded near the town entrance. Oops, forgot, they were his imagination.

He knew he was going crazy; insane.

It was the fateful day when Woodbury was overrun from walkers and that damned group from the prison. He sighed as he looked around. Near his door was a barrel, and inside, was his M4 rifle and his favorite hatchet. He reached inside the blue barrel and pulled his weapons out. He reloaded his rifle with a new mag, and then, placed the old one in his pocket. He slung the rifle over his shoulder as he held his hatchet.

 _Why am I still here? I have nothing to live for, anymore. I gave up on looking for Uncle Abe...he's probably dead, too, like everyone else I use to know. I don't have the balls to kill myself-I can't do it, because I already tried it. Maybe that prison group will kill me if I got close enough._

 _Yeah, that's a good plan! I know where the prison is, too._

Liam nodded to himself and looked around. No walkers were around, so he slowly sauntered down the street, heading towards the open gates. He left the gates open when everyone fled and went towards the prison. _Why didn't I just go when they all went to the prison? I believe they were all taken in, became friends with that man, Rick. Perhaps I could've joined their family, too..._

He shook his head. "No, I'm a lone wolf-always have been, always will!"

He smiled as he passed through the town gates, heading towards the prison.

"Maybe Uncle Abe is still alive..."


	2. Chapter 2: Firefight and Weakness

**Thanks for reading the previous chapter! It would be extremely helpful if you, my interested readers, could review! I don't wish to sound greedy, but I want constructive criticism-any critiques would be appreciated! I aspire to someday become an author, so reviews about my horrid writing would be appreciated!**

 **All of my sports are finished, so I can write this story more often, hopefully. I will update whenever I can!**

 **Please enjoy, and don't forget to review!**

* * *

Liam trudged through the woods, wandering towards the prison. He had been there once before-he watched the blonde man get shot by the Governor-and could still remembered the screams and the gunshots. He winced as he remembered the scream of one woman: she had short, gray hair, and was standing next to the blonde man.

"Damn," he thought aloud. "I can still remember that like it was yesterday. Those people were friends with Andrea, huh? That explains their attempt at rescuing her from Woodbury. Honestly, they should've planned that attack more; they should've used the tall buildings' rooftops as sniper towers, and kill everyone from the sky. That woman, Michonne or Michelle, should've just kept the daughter alive-that was a pointless move that only exasperated the Governor."

Yes, tactics and strategies were his bread-and-butter, so to say.

Liam looked to the sky, looking past the leaves. The sun was hanging overhead, watching Liam and mocking him with senile, dark humor. This sun was taunting him. Liam tightened the grip on his hatchet as he looked away from the sky, scanning the environment-nothing.

 _Maybe there is something, and you simply cannot see it, you damned fool!_

"Shut up," Liam grumbled to himself.

 _You should've went with the others, or died when the walkers invaded! You could've joined the prisoners when they tried to rescue Andrea! You made so many mistakes, and now, you're going to die!_

"I'm going insane," Liam sighed, kicking the underbrush around him.

 _You were insane from the beginning, you pitiful bastard!_

Liam spun around, groaning. "Be quiet! Shut the hell up!" His words were venomous and cold. He looked around, and saw something move in the nearby wall of bushes and trees. Liam gripped his hatchet like it was his lifeline. Soon enough, a walker stumbled from the brush, groaning. Liam growled as the hungry, reanimated corpse stumbled forward, one arm extended towards Liam.

The walker was once a female, possibly. It had long, dirty, white hair and was wearing a blue blouse. Blood was splattered on the blouse, looking similar to a star. Liam grimaced at the intoxicating, potent smell of rotting flesh. He gagged and chocked down bile as the walker stumbled closer. One of its eyes was gone, replaced with a void. There was a large patch of flesh missing from the neck, exposing the rotten muscle tissue.

Liam gagged again. The walker was five yards away. Liam took a deep breath, and then, advanced towards the walker. He sauntered towards the walker as it groaned and grabbed at him. Liam frowned and stepped to the side. He threw his left foot into its left kneecap, knocking down the walker. The walker fell to the earth, and grunted from the pain, even though it couldn't feel pain.

"You sorry sack of shit," whispered Liam as he stood over the walker, as it was attempting to rise from the dirt. Liam rolled his eyes and dropped the hatchet into the walker's head. The walker was immediately silenced, and went limp. Liam placed his boot onto the walker's shoulder, and then, pushed with his foot as he pulled the hatchet from the walker's cranium.

Liam grunted as blood shot from the wound. He stepped backwards, avoiding the blood spray. Luckily, he hadn't gotten blood on his cloths, which was good; he had an annoyance when blood stained his cloths, and it would bother him when he was fruitless when he cleaned the cloths. He was paranoid when anything was uneven, too. He had terrible OCD.

 _She reminds us of Ruth, Liam-the woman you failed to protect._

"Ruth killed herself!" Liam hissed. Liam looked at the dead walker. Blood was dying her hair, making her hair look purple-ish. "She was screaming, and a walker bit her-there was nothing I could've done!"

 _Stop telling yourself that, you worthless asshole. Our father is dead, too, and you did nothing to defend him! You couldn't even find Uncle Abraham! You're no survivor; you're just damn lucky! You have no survival skills once so ever!_

" _Be quiet!_ " screamed Liam. He threw his hatchet down and fell onto his knees, holding his head. "I didn't get father killed, and I _will_ find Uncle Abe-I promised Dad that we would find him, and I intend to keep that promise!"

 _Ha, ha-your confidence is just a façade, you sack of shit. You continuously remind yourself of the lewd language of your Uncle, because that's the only thing you remember of him. Our father never contacted him, except for Christmas. We know that you don't know Abraham, and we both know that you'll die trying to look for him!_

"I'm not going to die!"

 _Then look behind you._

Liam looked over his shoulder, seeing a walker several feet away. Liam screamed and fell to the ground. He rolled to his right, his arms flailing to grab his M4. The walker tripped over a close log, falling to the ground. The walker turned its ugly head and grabbed Liam's ankle. The walker, a distinct male, pulled itself toward Liam. Meanwhile, Liam had pulled his rifle off his back and fumbled around for the safety. In the process, he released the magazine, and it fell onto his chest.

"Dammit!"

Liam found the safety, and flipped the small switch. The walker was inches away from his pant leg, its wide jaw open. Saliva and blood dripped from its teeth. Liam pointed the rifle at the walker, praying that a bullet had found itself in the chamber of the rifle. He closed his eyes and pulled the trigger. "I don't wanna die!" he screamed when he pulled the trigger.

There was a loud gunshot, and the sound of tearing flesh.

Liam opened his eyes, seeing the dead walker laying at his feet. Liam sighed as he laid back down in the underbrush, panting. He nearly lost his life, but ironically, he felt more relieved that he was going to live another day in this nightmare.

He sat up and pulled his legs away from the walker. He groaned as blood covered his jeans. He stood tall and reached down, grabbing the magazine for the M4. He put in the magazine, and then, slung the rifle over his shoulder. He walked towards the hatchet, and grabbed it. He released an odd, languid sigh as he looked around. "Time to continue towards the prison, I guess."

* * *

The prison was a disaster. Liam watched the tragic scene of the wood-line, staring into his scope as he watched a negotiation undergo. He could remember the draconian laws of negotiations-he watched too many crime shows. He held the rifle high as he aimed the sights on the tank. "Damn, Gov', when did you get these nice wheels?"

Liam could barely see the Governor, who stood near an old man and the black woman, Michonne, if that was her name. Liam wanted to be equivocal during this engagement, just in case a firefight ensued. He wouldn't enjoy getting caught in between two forces of heavily armed men and women.

Liam narrowed his eyes as he moved his scope, focusing on another person. This woman, who was now the center of attention, was wearing jeans, a gray shirt, and a flannel. Her black hair was tied into pig tails. She was clumsily holding an assault rifle. Her bottom lip quivered slightly. Liam turned his attention back to the Governor, who was holding a katana to the old man's throat.

"When the hell did he get a katana?!" he whispered aloud. He glanced over his shoulder, hoping no walker would attempt to surprise attack him, again. He considered to climb a nearby tree, but he opted to stay on the ground in case he needed a better escape route.

Liam then moved the sights onto an enigmatic man, who stood behind the two rows of fences. This man had weird hair, which was starting to turn gray. He was wearing jeans and a brown shirt. Liam moved his finger towards the trigger, but the safety was on, so he couldn't fire the rifle; he just wanted to watch. He wouldn't shoot this man, or the Governor, or anyone-he just wants to watch.

The man behind the fence was giving a speech. Liam could faintly hear the man declaring his plans about coexisting, but it clearly wasn't working for the Governor. Liam, while having only few conversations with the Governor, knew how Brian Blank played; he made some sporadic decisions at times, but, he was actually very easy to read, especially since he was weak. Liam could tell who was weak, and who wasn't. Liam shifted his scope onto the black woman and the old man.

"They are survivors," Liam mumbled to himself. "The Governor is weak. That man behind the fence is strong, too, but he is breakable. He probably has been broken, but can be broken even more. Those people near the prison-weak, too. The man near the cowboy is strong, and the cowboy, but the others are weak."

 _What does that make you?_

"That makes me the strongest," chuckled Liam as the man finished his speech. Liam zoomed the scope onto the old man. "He won't survive. The Governor is too self-centered and arrogant to negotiate with that man and his prison family."

The Governor muttered something inaudible.

 _That old man is screwed!_

The Governor winded back his arm, pulling the katana back.

"The old man..."

 _He's fucked!_

The Governor swung the katana.

 _Ha, ha! This will just add another nightmare to our nightmares, or shall I say, my paradise!_

The katana slammed into the old man's neck.

"Holy shit..."

" _NOOOO!"_ screamed the old man as he pulled out his revolver and began to shoot into the crowd of enigmatic survivor. The Governor shouted and fell back, screaming. More gunshots and screaming began to ensue as the firefight began. The black woman began to roll onto her side, dodging bullets coolly. Liam gritted his teeth as a man fell from a gunshot. Liam looked over his shoulder, seeing no walkers.

"Let the bloodshed begin," Liam sighed as he lowered his rifle, looking away from the gore and violence. Liam peaked over the group of bushes he was hiding behind. He heard something snap behind him, so he quickly looked over his shoulder. He saw a woman carrying a limp body. The woman was crying and covered in blood. Liam raised his rifle, aiming it at the woman. She was apathetic, and didn't even realize Liam was crouching ten yards away.

The woman walked onto the battlefield, ignoring the bullets flying past her. Liam watched as she sauntered towards the Governor, who appeared from the cluster of vehicles. The tank was approaching the prison. Liam watched as the Governor approached the woman, and took the limp body into his arms. The Governor pulled his silver pistol from his holster.

He aimed it at the limp body.

The gunshot filled the air.

Liam, totally in shock, just saw an amazing moment.

He saw the Governor at his weakest.


	3. Chapter 3: The Prison Battle

Liam felt his heart crack more when the gunshot filled the air, adding to the symphony of gunshots. Liam flinched with the loud explosions and gunshots, people screaming when the bullets tore through their skin. The large tank in the middle of the battlefield began to roll towards the prison's fences, where walkers leaned against.

The ginger glanced over his shoulder, seeing several walkers staggering through the ferns and underbrush. Liam spun around and aimed his M4 towards the small pack of eight walkers. One particular walker, the closest, gnashed its teeth towards the teen. Liam aimed the M4 towards it, and pulled the trigger. The bullet grazed the head. Liam pulled the trigger again, killing the walker.

"I can't stay here," Liam muttered to himself. "The only escape route is into the battlefield, though." Liam pursed his lips as the walkers slowly began to close around him, forming a semi-circle. Liam cursed as he eyed every walker. The seven walkers would definitely kill him - he wasn't that good at survival and shooting walkers.

He was just damn lucky, and his luck would probably run out.

 _I'm not dying here._

Liam cursed, again, and spun on his heel. He dove through the ferns, landing on the grass on the battlefield. Bullets cut through the air, slicing the wind like a knife. Liam stood quickly and began sprinting towards the Governor's allies. If he had to pick sides, he would fight with the Governor.

The Governor was sauntering behind the tank as the massive machine destroyed the front gate of the prison. The cowboy figure - Liam assumed it was Rick, the leader - had taken shelter behind something. The prisoners stood at the top of the gravel pathway, shooting at the tank. Sporadically, the enigmatic soldiers for the Governor would fall, being killed by the bullets of the enemy.

Liam sprinted towards the group of soldiers being sheltered by the tank. The tank shot its massive explosive towards the prison, striking a building that looked similar to a church. Liam flinched at the sound of shattering glass and broken bricks. People screamed with anger and pain as more bullets and gunshots filled the air.

The prisoners began to scatter as the tank grew closer towards the gate that would open into the prison. Liam glanced over his shoulder, seeing walkers appear from the wood-line. Liam cursed and looked forward, seeing an older man holding an assault rifle. He was firing the automatic rifle until something pierced his skull, sending blood and brain onto the gravel.

Liam yelped as something sharp pierced his calf. Liam crumpled to the ground, groaning in pain. The Governor, who was now fist fighting with Rick, was too busy to notice the death of his soldiers. Liam grabbed his M4 and assisted himself to stand and regain his position amongst the soldiers behind the tank.

Liam limped as he noticed a blonde teen run away with an older woman, who sported brown, short hair. There was an African man shooting towards the tank, and another man, with a biker jacket with torn sleeves and long, brown, sweaty hair killing walkers. More prisoners scattered as people around Liam fell to the pavement of the prison.

Blood was everywhere, like the despondent screaming of the wounded. Walkers were drawing closer towards the prison, and Liam stood amongst the prison battlefield, holding his assault rifle.

 _I need to find somewhere to hide!_

Liam quickly noticed an open door several yards away, however, he would have to limp quickly through the battlefield. It was either risk his life, or lose it. Liam shook his head and began limping towards the door quickly. He crouched down, hoping no one would aim towards him. His calf screamed with pain, but adrenaline muffled the screaming.

Liam dove into the doorway. He laid in the doorway as more screaming filled the air, along with shouting. Liam stood quickly and looked around.

He was inside a prison block, standing amongst several prison cells. The gunshots and shouting were still audible, but they seemed distant now. Liam groaned as he looked down at his legs. On his right leg, blood drenched his pant leg. Liam bit back tears as he reached towards the bloodiest part of the pant leg. Liam touched around the wound, and screamed with pain.

"Holy shit!" he screamed as he fell onto his backside, pain filling his body. He sat in the empty cell block, holding his wounded leg like a child. Liam looked around as tears formed in his eyes.

 _This was a horrible idea._

Liam groaned in pain as he looked at his M4; he had several shots left in the magazine, which could keep him alive. His hatchet wouldn't protect him against armed people. Liam muttered several curse words as he looked at his bloody fingers.

"Why am I such an idiot?" he muttered quietly.

"Who the hell are you?" someone groaned with animosity.

Liam shot a glance towards his left, seeing another teen holding a rifle. It was a muzzleloader. The teen had long brown hair, and was wearing simple cloths - jeans, a flannel, and an undershirt. There was a cowboy hat placed neatly on his head. The muzzleloader was aimed towards him.

Liam looked at him with scared eyes. "Please, don't kill me! I'm a simple bystander in this!"

"I saw you with the Governor!" the enigmatic teen hissed. "You're nothing but a murderer and a monster!"

"I didn't kill anyone!" Liam retorted.

"I wouldn't lie if I were you - there's a gun pointed at your face," the teen growled.

Liam gritted his teeth. "I didn't do anything! I was escaping from some walkers and I found myself behind that tank."

"Bullshit,"

"It's the truth!" Liam exclaimed. "I wouldn't lie to you, even though I don't know who you are."

"You don't need to know who I am," the teen said with venom. "Now, do you have any last words."

"Please, don't kill me," Liam pleaded. "I know you're not a killer, dude - you don't have to kill me!"

"You're an enemy; I have to defend my home from enemies, and I have to kill you to make sure you won't come back."

"Please, I'm just looking for my uncle!"

"He's probably dead," the teen growled.

Liam pursed his lips and looked away. _Uncle Abe probably is dead._

"Are you wounded?" the teen asked.

"Yes," Liam said without much emotion. He stared at his bloody hands, the blood dripping off his fingers. His calf roared with an inferno of pain, but that didn't matter to Liam; nothing mattered to Liam, now.

"What is your name?" the teen asked, this time with some curiosity.

"Kill me," Liam said coldly. "I didn't get shot to talk to you - just kill me."

The teen lowered the muzzleloader. "I asked you a question, so I intend for you to answer me."

"My name is Liam," the ginger said with a despondent sigh.

The enigmatic teen glared at Liam. "Why aren't you scared? Are you scared of death?"

"Are you?" Liam retorted quickly, sending his gaze towards the enigmatic teenager with the muzzleloader. His cowboy hat was slightly askew. Liam sent daggers into his chest. "I have accepted my death any days ago, because death is inevitable - hopefully you have noticed that. I'm not scared to die, but I would rather live."

The teen slowly approached him cautiously, the muzzleloader readied at his shoulder. "Do you want me to kill you? I could spare your life, but you have to promise me something."

Liam looked at him with some interest. "You would spare my life?"

"Give me all your weapons - every single bullet and sharp weapon," the teen said.

Liam looked at him. "You're going to leave me defenseless?"

"Would you rather me finish the job?" asked the teen with some heat, motioning towards Liam's wound on his calf.

Liam looked up into the teen's dark eyes, seeing death, destruction, loneness, and sadness; this teen had experienced the similar demons he endured, and suffered the same pains and fears. The teen was almost identical to him, yet, he seemed more senile and frangible, like he could snap like a twig. Liam's lips twitched as he pondered his rather poignant situation: die, or become defenseless.

Liam sighed and gestured to his nearby M4. "My rifle is almost out of ammo, but, consider it your rifle." Liam reached into his hips and removed the hatchet and pistol from their holsters. He tossed the weapons towards the teen, landing near his feet. The teen smirked triumphantly and kicked the weapons away with his left foot.

"Thank you, Liam," the teen said with his confident smirk. "My name is Carl Grimes."

"Liam Ford," replied the ginger.

Carl lowered the muzzleloader, and spun it around. He grabbed the barrel of the gun and sauntered towards Liam. Liam tensed as the teen closed, slowly gaining his senile thought; Liam tried moving himself away from Carl, but was fruitless.

Carl slammed the stock of the muzzleloader into Liam's cheek. Liam yelped as the impact threw his body downwards, his head slamming off the prison floor. Through dazed and blurry eyes, Liam saw Carl standing over him, looking down at him with pity.

"I'm sorry, Liam, but this is the best way to ensure my safety; I can't risk you coming after me and my family. Thanks for the weapons, too - they could provide some use," said Carl with a deadpanned voice, void of emotion. Carl sighed and moved away from the dazed Liam.

"N...o..." Liam said distantly, his vision giving away. Soon, everything went black and silent.

* * *

Pain spiked throughout his entire body. The inferno of unbearable pain seemed to ebb around his entire body, crushing his bones and grinding them into dust. He felt feverish and dehydrated, which would kill him before the pain put him into an eternal sleep. His hair felt heavy and moist, covered in grime and sweat; his body seemed to be ravaged by some ugly disease that would eventually, and evidentially, kill him.

 _I can't die, though - Dad wanted me to find...who? Oh, my only uncle: Uncle Abraham Ford._

Liam sat up slowly, his head pounding with pain. Liam groaned as nausea forced his stomach into severe knots of pain and hunger. Liam supported himself with two arms, sitting. Sweat rolled into his eyes as his throat roared with thirst and pain. His cloths were damp with sweat, and his hair clung to his skin.

Liam's eyes immediately fell onto his calf - his heart pinged with fear. His wound looked discolored, along with the skin around the wound; the skin contracted a disgusting yellowish pigment, looking swollen and sickly.

Liam felt his eyes bug in their sockets: he could've contracted gangrene, or something worse.

His mother, apt in basic first aid, taught him several infections wounds could attract - gangrene was one of the several infections his mother mentioned. Gangrene was a sickly infection that attacked the tissue around the wound, and is related to the bone; it could cause amputation or death, along with the sickly symptoms that ensued when contracting gangrene: nausea, dehydration, vomiting, pain, and many other horrible things.

Liam felt his heart clench when he looked around, gaining his bearings. There was a small pool of blood around him - this came from his gunshot wound - but there were many empty cells, along with rubble. There was a small hunting knife by his right hand, which he took.

Liam rolled onto his stomach, and vomited quickly; nothing but water and a protein bar left his mouth. Liam groaned as he forced himself to stand, fighting through the nausea. Liam looked around, seeing the nearest door. He staggered towards the door and opened it, fresh air filling his lungs quickly.

The smell of death also entered his lungs.

Liam gagged and stepped further into the outdoors, the sun hiding behind several clouds. Walkers staggered and stumbled around the deserted battle field, chewing on the nearest corpse. Liam gagged and looked around, seeing one woman sitting inside a caged area. Liam didn't recognize her, but she was with the Governor.

"Hey!"

Liam blinked - he didn't call out for the enigmatic woman.

Suddenly, a man emerged from the nearest corner, jogging towards the caged woman. Liam ducked, pain exploding through his body. He was hiding behind several plants, which were caked in blood.

"Hey!" the man shouted again, trying to get her attention.

Liam looked away, seeing one walker catch attention of the man. Liam frowned as he slowly crept away from his sheltered spot, and sauntered towards the walker. He took out the small hunting knife, and looked at the blade; it was sharp enough to kill the walker.

Liam limped towards the walker and slammed the knife into its skull, killing it instantly. It was several feet away from killing the man, who spun around.

"What the hell?" the man asked. Liam looked at him with curiosity; he was Asian and wearing riot gear.

"I saved your life," Liam said with a small smile.

"Um, thanks?"

"You're welcome," Liam said. "We should get moving before more walkers come!"

"Have any of you seen my girlfriend?" the enigmatic lady asked despondently, "or the Governor?"

"He's dead," the Asian man said without emotion.

Liam looked around, seeing many walkers closing around them. "Dude, we need to leave!"

"Come on!" the Asian man said as he grabbed the woman and sprinted around a corner, heading towards the front gate. Liam cursed under his breath and limped after the, the walkers groaning behind him.


End file.
